Reason & Reward

God damn, that, that ass is just so damned perfect," Tommy praised, reaching and squeezing Paris's buttocks in his calloused hand.

"Then why do you keep after Shannon?" Paris wanted to ask, but instead just wiggled her buttocks, encouraging him to keep squeezing and lightly slapping her buttocks.

"Mm, oh, oh yes," Paris hissed as Tommy jammed a thick finger into her wetness.

"Mm, oh, mm," Paris cooed as Tommy fingered her.

"Baby, I, I'm getting close," Tommy warned, already hunching up into her mouth.

Paris held him toward the back of her mouth; she hated the taste and texture of his semen. She squealed around his slender cock when he jammed his index finger into her unprepared rectum. Tommy gasped, gurgled and groaned as he pumped his semen into Paris's throat. When he caught his breath, he and Paris shared a kiss. Then she straddled his renewed erection and slid his cock into her. More for the benefit of their housemates than for any actual enjoyment of their coupling, Paris was a loud and energetic participant. Tommy chuckled; he was aware of what Paris was doing and why. When they'd first started dating, Paris had grunted, cooed and squealed as they fucked in the back seat of his mother's car. She certainly had never screamed, grunted and groaned loudly in the dark, cramped confines of the car. She had never screamed for him to fuck her, fill her up.

After they finished, Paris used her mouth to clean Tommy's sticky cock of their juices. Then with a passionate kiss to Tommy's lips, Paris pulled on her threadbare Whittle's college tee shirt, her father's alma mater.

Returning to Rio Del Sol for the evening shift the following day, Paris found out that Mr. Frank did believe money to be thicker than blood; he'd fired his niece. The task of training Becky's replacement fell to Paris and Tammy. Both Kenny and Fernando did suggest that Becky's replacement should be cute, with big boobs and few reservations. They burned through three potential hires before Paris thought to ask her housemate Shannon if she'd be interested in the job.

"Are you kidding? I swear, if one more trucker asks me how much for a blow job, I will kill them," Shannon enthused.

"So, how much do you charge for a blow job?" Craig joked.

"Not as much as you do," Shannon growled, no levity in her voice. "Of course, I'm not as good as you."

"Damn, Craig. Uh, I do believe you just got burned," Tommy chuckled.

"I swear, he is so sick," Shannon confided to Paris and Anna. "Get this, get this; he? He wants me to tell him all about every time I get hit on. It's almost like he gets off on that shit."

Shannon was an excellent waitress and Mr. Frank gave Paris a fifty dollar bill for bringing Shannon into the restaurant for the job interview. Fernando and Kenny, and Howard Fineman and even Mr. Frank vied for the blonde's attention. Howard Fineman was the evening shift busboy/dishwasher and Paulie was the evening prep cook. Paulie was decidedly homosexual, but did declare, were he straight, he would be madly in love with Shannon.

"Girl? She's almost as pretty as you," Paulie said to Paris.

"Oh, shut up!" Paris laughed, squeezing the effeminate man in a one-armed hug. "She's a hundred times prettier than me."

"Oh no I am not," Shannon emphatically declared, hustling past with her order for table number nine.

"So there," Paulie declared, giving a dramatic snap of his fingers. "'Nuff said."

"Whatever, Paulie, whatever," Paris laughed and took her order out to table fourteen.

"Twenty minutes before closing, Moisette entered the restaurant and glanced around. Her green eyes opened in delight when she saw Paris and approached Paris at a brisk pace.

"Hello my dear Paris," Moisette said and embraced the young woman. "Where is your section? You will be my server."

"Here, here's a clean table," Paris said, guiding Moisette to table nineteen.

"And I already know I want the, whatever it is was that Bradley had and that sangria drink I had last time," Moisette said when Paris put the bowl of chips and salsa onto the table.

"Yes ma'am," Paris said. "Oh! The, he had the burrito el carnita; do you want it spicy?"

"I want it like he had it," Moisette insisted, smiling, then beckoned Paris to come closer. "Paris, it is Moisette. It is I. Do not call me 'ma'am;' that makes me so old."

"Yes ma...Moisette," Paris said, smiling.

"Better, that is much better," Moisette laughed happily.

Paris went into the kitchen and let Paulie know that Moisette wanted the Burrito el Carnita, with habanero puree. With a shrug, he carefully ladled a small amount onto the shredded pork while Paris made the sangria drink.

"I am having a small housewarming party next Saturday; they have finally finished the house," Moisette announced to Paris as Paris put the drink in front of Moisette.

"Oh? Well, how wonderful," Paris said, glancing over at another table that looked as if they were ready to leave.

"You must come. I insist. Please?" Moisette demanded, cutting a section of her burrito.

"I, next Saturday? What time?" Paris said, briskly stepping over to table twenty three, check in hand.

"What time do you get off of work? Do you work Saturday? We will start the party when you come," Moisette informed Paris when Paris managed to step to Moisette's table again.

"Next Saturday? I, usually I get the late shift," Paris mused aloud. "So, I'll be getting out of here, probably a little after nine."

"Then we will start the party a little after nine," Moisette declared. "Here. My address is on the back of this."

Paris took the business card and saw the swirling logo of 'Ayshire Mobile Homes, LLC' in the upper left corner of the business card. In the center of the card, in crisp slack lettering was 'Moisette R. Seraque.' Paris did not read the woman's job title before flipping the card over and reading that Moisette's new house was in Geaytchel, on Quebec Street.

"I, that, Moisette, that, that's that new house they been working on?" Paris asked, mouth open in shock. "That real big house?"

"Yes," Moisette said, finishing her burrito, then swallowing the last dregs of her wine.

Just as she had done before, Moisette began to eat the chunks of fruit from the bottom of the goblet.

"Oh! I bet, I bet that is so good," Shannon commented as she watched Moisette eat the fruit.

"Would you like to share?" Moisette asked, even tilting the goblet toward the blonde.

"No, no, thank you ma'am," Shannon smiled and paused in her sweeping the dining area's floor.

"I, you are closed? Already? But it is, oh! It is almost nine thirty! Paris, why did you just let me...here, here, I will pay now so you may leave," Moisette said and briskly approached Frank Richardson, digging in her designer bag for her credit card. "I am so sorry; I, I just always assume everyone is on the same schedule as I am."

"Ma'am? The customer is always right," Frank said, attempting to flirt with the gorgeous red head.

"That is not right," Moisette said, smiling slightly. "But thank you."

"I, this house warming party?" Paris said as she moved to unlock the front door for Moisette. "Is it all right if I bring my boyfriend?"

"I, if you must," Moisette said, beautiful mouth tightening. "But I, I would really rather it just be the two of us; yourself and myself."

Paris was putting her bicycle into the bed of Shannon's pickup truck when Moisette's words sank into her consciousness. 'Just the two of us.' The house warming party would be just herself and the beautiful, elegant, poised woman.

"That woman? Where's she from?" Shannon asked as she backed out of the parking lot of Rio del Sol.

"Quebec. Canada," Paris said, still thinking about the party, a party for just two, two women.

"Canada? How, how do you know her?" Shannon asked, surprised. "God, I wish they would put a light on this bridge; it scares me to death every time I drive over it."

"She was at Kimberly's wedding," Paris said, letting out her breath when the 'thump thump' of the bridge gave away to the crunching of gravel underneath the truck's tires again.

"Kimberly," Shannon said, her dislike of the woman very evident.

"What? Yes, Kimberly. What's wrong with Kimberly?" Paris demanded but Shannon didn't answer as she took the sharp turn right before their trailer park.

"I bet Craig forgot to do the wash like I asked," Shannon said. "You work the lunch shift tomorrow?"

"Mm? No, no, night again," Paris said as they pulled to a stop in front of the trailer.

Craig had indeed neglected to do the laundry and Shannon let him know how unhappy she was with him. Tommy and Jeremy did not come to Craig's defense, but both glared at the loudly complaining blonde.

"What, Craig? What? It's not like you were oh so busy, is it?" Shannon said.

"Hey, I was down at that Ayshire place. Ask Tommy; there was a line a mile long," Craig defended.

"But still had time to come home and eat, still had time to drink, three, four beers?" Shannon shrilled.

"You. Did you hear back from Ayshire?" Paris asked Tommy. "Or that, what is it? Rose Recycling?"

"No. They just said 'thank you; we'll give you a call if we want to interview you again,'" Tommy said, increasing the volume of the pro wrestling match he and Jeremy were watching. "Shannon, you uh, you think you're going to stop bitching any time soon? We're trying to watch TV here."

"Fuck your TV, you hear?" Shannon screamed, beautiful face twisted in bitterness. "Fuck your stupid God damned wrestling bull shit. Bust my ass all day, I told you, I told you, I have that doctor's appointment tomorrow, then work the lunch shift, please, please wash my uniform for me. You said you would. You swore you would, swore on your mother's grave you would."

"Shannon, I need to wash mine too," Paris said. "Let me get out of it and we'll wash them right now, okay?"

"Should have already been done," Shannon screamed at Craig. "Should have already been done."

"God damn, believe what a fucking bitch she's being?" Tommy declared, following Paris to their bedroom.

Paris said nothing; she knew Shannon was right. Craig was once again unemployed, once again had been let go from yet another menial job. Their third of household expenses was once again falling to Shannon. And even though he'd been home all day; he had been home when she'd left for the evening shift, Craig had neglected to wash Shannon's spare uniform.

"You move in there, don't come crying to me when it all blows up in your face," Jack had told his daughter. "But before you move in there? You really need to take a look at why three grown men, what? They're all over the age of twenty one, right? You really, really need to look at why three grown men can't afford a simple trailer on their own. Then, you still want to move in there with them? E my guest. But I sure wouldn't, if it were me? I sure wouldn't."

Paris now saw very clearly what her father had been trying to communicate. The how and why three men could not afford a trailer on their own was simple; they had not grown up. At first, Paris had loved Tommy's child-like enthusiasm and his carefree attitude. But now, with bills, and cooking and cleaning, and responsibilities, the boyish charm was losing a lot of the charm.

Jeremy was working at a grain mill. He made good money working for a good, honest employer. He could not adequately explain why he was perpetually broke.

Making sure she had Moisette's business card out of the apron's pocket, Paris put her uniforms into the washing machine. Shannon had already sorted her own laundry and Paris could smell the laundry detergent so started the machine.

"Aw, hey, fuck huh?" Jeremy complained when the sound of running water drowned out the wrestling match on television.

"Oh good God," Paris whispered to the still enraged Shannon. "The whole thing's fake anyway."

"Split a beer with me?" Shannon asked, already twisting the cap off of the sixteen ounce Wheat Terlings beer.

"Sure," Paris said as they took their usual seats at the kitchen table.

"Aw, well, fuck!" Jeremy bellowed when the noisy washing machine finished filling with water and started the first cycle. "Guess I don't need to watch my TV here, do I?"

"Guess not," Shannon snarled. "You can thank your buddy Craig there. If he had just done my clothes like I asked him to..."

"Drink," Paris ordered, pushing the bottle back toward Shannon.

"You ever have the Barley Terlings?" Shannon asked, bringing the bottle to her lips.

"No. I've never had any of the Terlings before," Paris said, watching Shannon's pretty lips pursing around the mouth of the bottle.

"Barley's a hundred times better than this," Shannon declared and pursed her lips for a second sip.

"And take them stupid dryer balls out when you put that stuff in the dryer, huh?" Jeremy ordered as he stomped to the bedroom he and Anna shared. "Don't need to hear all that 'bang-bang-bang' shit."

"I ought to put some God damned bricks in there," Shannon grumbled to Paris.

Paris almost snorted the mouthful of beer through her nose and she and Shannon shared a good giggle. Paris gave Shannon a soft kiss to her pink lips and pushed the bottle to Shannon. Shannon took the last sip of the beer and dropped the beer bottle into the recycling bin.

"Good night," Paris said, standing.

"Good night," Shannon agreed.

Paris did take the six fuzzy balls from the dryer and put them into the laundry basket. She also remembered to check the lint trap and cleaned the caked on lint from the screen.

Safely in the bedroom she and Tommy shared, Paris quickly scampered to the bathroom. Stripping out of tee shirt and bra and shorts, Paris started the shower and stepped under the spray.

Shannon's lips had been so soft. They had been moist, mostly from the beer, but those lips had been soft and moist. Shannon's breath had smelled of the wheat beer and even had a hint of onions from Shannon's shredded chicken taco dinner. Shannon's hair and body had smelled of sweat, of the Mexican food they'd served all day. Her lips had been soft and moist.

Paris grunted in orgasm. She then squealed as the washing machine suddenly drained the water pressure from the shower. Paris used this moment to lather her flesh and work some conditioner into her hair.

Tuesday evening, Shannon and Paris passed one another in the employee break room. Shannon would not tell Paris how the doctor's appointment had gone; simply said she didn't have time to talk about it. Wednesday afternoon, during a lull in the early crowd, Shannon still did not have time to talk about the doctor's appointment. By Friday, Paris had forgotten about Shannon's doctor's appointment.

"Oh! Tommy, are you working tomorrow night?" Paris asked as they prepared a simple spaghetti dinner That Friday evening.

"I, yeah, hmm, ten to six," Tommy agreed, running the warm water over the draining noodles. "Why?"

"I wanted to borrow the car; I'm going to Moisette's house after work," Paris said, keeping her head down, hoping Tommy wouldn't notice the heavy blush on her face.

"Moy who?" Tommy asked, again shaking the large colander.

"Moisette," Paris said. "She's one of Kimberly's friends; she was at the wedding."

"Moy, what kind of name is what is it? Moy what?" Tommy mocked the woman's name.

"Moy SAY, Moisette, it's French," Paris said, angered at Tommy's mocking of her friend's name.

"Wow, hey, so is Paris," Tommy giggled, finished with the long spaghetti noodles.

"Your car?" Paris demanded.

"Shit, ride your bicycle," Tommy suggested. "I let you borrow the car; how am I getting to work? Or home?"

"Tommy, it's going to be after nine o'clock at night," Paris said. "I'm going there right after work. You really think it'd be safe for me? To ride my bike at nine o'clock at night?"

"Paris, I'll come get you," Anna interjected, then turned to Jeremy. "It'll be okay? I'll take her wherever she's going then come right back."

"Yeah; that's fine," Jeremy grunted. "Tommy, hey, come on, you're about to burn the garlic bread, man."

"Shit!" Tommy squealed and jerked the oven door open.

Before Tommy could reach into the oven, Paris pushed him aside and used a hot pad to pull the cookie sheet out of the oven. Even pointing out that he'd been about to grab a hot sheet of metal with his bare hands did not mollify Tommy. In truth, he was embarrassed; at being stupid enough to attempt to grab a hot cookie sheet with his bare hands, and at how easily Paris had shoved him out of the way.

Paris turned and looked at Anna. In the months that they'd been living together, in the same trailer, Anna had not been unfriendly, had not been outwardly unkind to either Paris or Shannon. But the girl had never volunteered any assistance to either Paris or Shannon. To Tommy or Craig, Anna was warm, affectionate, even a little flirty.

"Anna, you sure? Moisette lives out in Geaytchel," Paris asked.

"Sure. Like you said, it's just not safe to ride your bike; you know, I need to start biking. I'm starting to pooch out a little bit," Anna said cheerfully.

"Boy I'll say you are," Jeremy agreed, earning himself scathing glares from Anna and Paris.

Had Shannon been in the trailer, she too would have fixed Jeremy with a laser beam death stare. She would have said something as well. Shannon most likely would have pointed out that Jeremy had very little room to talk about anyone gaining weight. Tommy and Craig, however, thought Jeremy's comment was funny and laughed.

"You get off at nine?" Anna finally asked as they sat to eat.

"Yes, I'm usually out of there by nine twenty, nine thirty at the latest," Paris said.

The next afternoon, Paris could not decide what outfit to pack in her duffel bag. What should she wear to a party, a party for two women? Every time she thought of that, her belly fluttered. Finally, she decided on a simple scoop neck blouse; the light blue was a flattering color and the neckline showed off the tops of her breasts. The skirt was a soft denim material and the hem stopped two inches above her knees. She knew she would have to be careful about how she sat unless she wanted everyone to see her panties.

"Come on, what the fuck; I'm trying to sleep," Tommy grumbled as Paris now debated on what bra, what underwear to wear.

Paris grabbed her prettiest, lacy white panties. She loved the high cut of the thighs of these panties. She decided that no bra was needed; it was a party for two women.

After brushing her teeth, Paris debated with herself, then decided against kissing Tommy goodbye. His sleep had already been interrupted once. Quietly, Paris made sure she had Moisette's card, then grabbed her bag and left the bedroom.

"Nine," Anna smiled as Paris left the trailer.

"Nine," Paris smiled and closed the door of the trailer.

At twelve minutes after nine, Paris walked her bicycle around to the front of the building. Anna smiled and helped Paris hoist the bicycle into the bed of the truck. As they worked, Anna chatted pleasantly, asking Paris about her evening's work.

Paris entered Moisette's address into her phone's GPS and the telephone immediately began ordering Anna to take a U-turn in the parking lot. Anna displayed a sense of humor Paris had not seen before when she sweetly asked the phone if she could simply back up instead.

On the trip from Rio Del Sol to Moisette's home on Quebec Street, Paris found out why Anna was always so aloof with her and with Shannon. Jeremy, and to a lesser extent, Craig and Tommy were forever comparing Anna to Shannon and Paris. This was normal adolescent male behavior, but they did these comparisons in front of Anna and shared their opinions of Anna's shortcomings with Anna.

Anna adopted a deep male voice as she said, "Shannon's tits are bigger. Paris's ass is nicer. Shannon and Paris are a thousand times prettier than you; fuck, you're lucky I put up with your ugly face."